Beauty Queen
by Louise Lewin
Summary: "I should have known the day would go to hell the moment I saw we had a special offer on topiary pubic hair." Life in the salon is full of ups and downs for unfortunate, sexually-frustrated singleton Bella Swan. When a certain bronze-haired McHottie walks in, can she keep her cool?
1. Chapter 1

**This plot bunny wouldn't go away, but don't worry, it won't interfere with Nest Egg or an angsty fic I'm also planning. Thanks to A-Jasper For-Me for beta'ing and Lolo84 for pre-reading. Love you both!**

**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners (S. Meyer). No copyright infringement intended.**

**Short-ish chapters. Updating often (3-4 times a week).**

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**Chapter One**

I slam the car door with a little too much force, earning me a glare in the rear-view mirror from Rose. Monday mornings always suck, but when you're woken from a hot sex dream when you're just on the brink of a much-needed orgasm, they suck _hard. _Maybe I should stop saying suck, 'cause that's just fuelling my sex-addled brain.

The three of us, Rosalie, Alice and me, drive further into Phoenix from our shared house in the suburbs. Thanks to my excellent time-keeping, and making sure my roomies are also always punctual, we have time for coffee.

"Every time we go in, I swear the price goes up," Alice grumbles when we're back in the car. "They know I can't resist; I bet they see dollar signs whenever I walk in!"

She has a point, my spitfire bestie—well, one of my besties. That company hasn't got 'bucks' in their name for nothing, and as we're powerless to resist their Frappuccinos and iced hazelnut lattes in the height of summer, we end up forking out our hard-earned cash.

When we pull into the parking lot of _Essential Spa and Beauty_, I bid a sad farewell to the car's air-conditioning.

"_Motherfuck_," Rose curses as we step out into the baking heat. The sun, even at this hour, is unrelenting. "Whose idea was having all-black uniforms?"

Alice and I both raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Yours."

I see her point, though; while it's certainly easier to keep clean and my black flats are like slippers, you don't want to get caught outside wearing it for too long. Fortunately we don't have far to walk and soon we're in reception, the little fountain bubbling away serenely. It calms you, but it also makes you need to pee. Like, _badly. _I don't know how Charlotte stands it all day.

Right, I'ma give you the spiel about our workplace as I would any potential client. _Essential _is a luxurious spa attached to a gym and fitness centre, decorated in neutral, calming tones. Beyond reception is the open-plan beauty floor where we do hair, nails and make-up, and beyond that we have six private treatment rooms and six sunbeds. There's also a hydrotherapy pool, Jacuzzi, steam room and sauna, and a relaxation room with the comfiest daybeds known to man—I should know, I've fallen asleep there. Several times.

Phew, I think we're done with the tour.

"Morning, girls," Charlotte says chirpily, appearing from the room behind reception.

We greet her in return as she places this week's special offer board on the desk. I cringe as I read it:

_Banish the boring bikini wax and impress your partner with a heart, star, or even their initial! 20% off when you choose from our new range of templates! _

Jesus Christ. What happened to saying it with flowers? Now we say it with topiary pubic hair? No wonder I haven't dated in over a year. I could just imagine some twenty-first century Romeo turning up at my door, dropping trou to reveal my name spelled out in his short and curlies. _Shudder. _No, thank you!

"So, what have we got first, Char?" Alice asks, breaking through my thoughts of monogrammed pubic bones.

The receptionist runs a perfectly-manicured (I should know, I did them) finger down today's page in the appointments book. "You and Rose have final wedding consults this morning with Bree—"

They both cut her off with a groan. Now, Bree Tanner is a sweet, friendly young woman set to marry her sweetheart this coming Saturday. Why the groan then, I hear you ask? Bree isn't the problem; it's her soon-to-be mother-in-law, Mrs. Biers. In the six months that Rose and Alice have been working with the wedding party, the dragon has yet to offer first-name terms. But then again, if my name was Muriel—I checked her details, don't judge—I'd probably ask to be called by my surname as well.

Anyway, she's rude, condescending and always wants the last word. She knows what _she_ wants and refuses to listen to poor Bree. At this rate, the bride's going to end up looking like an eighties' reject and the groom's going to marry a carbon copy of his mother. Which doesn't bode well for the wedding night, unless he's got that whole oedipal thing going on, and in that case, bad perms will be the least of the bride's worries.

"Don't worry," Charlotte says, grinning, "Mrs. Biers isn't coming today."

Rose sighs in relief. "Thank fuck for that."

"I knew you'd be pleased. Bella, Ms Denali is booked in for her usual full head—"

"I only give _full_ head to guys," I tease, meeting Alice's high-five.

"—of highlights, perhaps I should clarify," Charlotte finishes playfully. "Clearly you're getting confused with your other job, whore."

"Bitch." I stick my tongue out. "Anyway, which of the Denali Dolls is it?"

Sisters Kate and Tanya have been given this name because of their likeness to Barbie herself. And no, not the strange genitalia—admit it, you looked too—although now I think about it, I am always Tanya's go-to girl when it comes to needing a Hollywood wax. Always knew that chick fancied me.

I digress.

No, their resemblance to Barbie is strictly limited to platinum blonde hair, willowy figures and tits that defy gravity. What's even more annoying is they're really _nice. _The sisters. Though their tits are pretty nice, too.

Charlotte checks the book. "It's Kate. Later we've got a couple of new guys in … you've got the one having the wax."

I groan. Now, before you judge me, I have no problem doing a wax down below on a guy—I'm the consummate professional. But guys who come in, especially in pairs, are usually gay, and though I have no problem with that whatsoever, they tend to be over-sharers. Seriously, nothing is TMI for the gay guys coming in here to get their junk waxed. And while two guys together is some hot shit, when you're up close and personal with their dick, balls and asshole with a stick of hot wax, it's not where you want to be focused.

Before we can talk anymore, our colleagues begin arriving in ones or twos, so I stow my bag in my locker. I go to the backroom where a stack of foils sits waiting for me—Chelsea, the assistant and general dogsbody around here, does her job well. There's nothing worse than coming in on a Monday and having to rush around. I like being prepared.

Kate is on time as usual, and soon I get to work with the comb and foils.

"So, how's Garrett?" I ask. "Treating you well?"

She grins at me in the mirror and holds up her left hand, a beautiful marquise diamond on her ring finger.

"Oh my God! Look at that thing; I'm surprised you can hold your hand up! How? When?"

"Last week for our anniversary, he took me for a picnic under the stars." She sighs dreamily. "He's so romantic!"

Okay, I'm not gonna lie, I might be a teensy bit jealous. The truth is, Kate is eight years younger than me and clearly way ahead in the dating game. Not that it's a race … yeah, who am I kidding? I want the rock on my finger, dammit! Or failing that, a hot guy between my thighs would do nicely. _Not the time to go there right now._

I shake my head and tune in to Kate again.

We gossip about weddings and ideas for hair and make-up and themes for a good hour, and I'm cutting her hair when she turns the conversation to me.

"So, how's life treating you, Bella?"

I shrug. "Yeah, can't complain; well, I do, but no one listens."

"Any men on the horizon for you?"

"Nope. None. "

"Someone will come along when you least expect it," she says kindly. Great, now I'm being offered platitudes by a woman barely old enough to drink. "Say, next Saturday my cousin Carmen is hosting a Sexy Sinners party—you know, lingerie, toys, all the good stuff. You should come along."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it will be awesome. She's got a huge house and we're having caterers in. Bring a couple of friends."

"Will there be drink?"

She laughs. "You ask silly questions. Of _course _there'll be drink."

"Then I'm there."

By the time Kate leaves, we've exchanged numbers so she can send me the details for next Saturday. If I can't find a half-decent guy, buying a proper vibrator will be the next best thing, right?

I wave her goodbye and am about to turn to Charlotte when my eyes fall on _him_. The bronze-haired McHottie sits chatting to another guy, his arm over the back of the comfy sofa. Oh yeah, they are definitely together. There is no way a man like McHottie is straight. His black T-shirt is taut across his muscular chest—not too bulky, but perfectly athletic. Sharp, defined jaw with dark stubble and beautiful lips I just want to nibble.

Shit, is it hot in here?

I hear a feminine chuckle beside me. Rose steps in front of my vision and places a clipboard in my hands. "Damn girl, good luck with that."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"According to Char, _he _is your eleven o'clock."

Holy shit! This is the guy I'm waxing? Well, fuck me sideways, McHottie. Things definitely just got hot in here.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for your reviews! I haven't replied personally as I thought you'd prefer me to spend my time writing. :)**

**Thanks to Lolo84 for pre-reading. Smooches!**

**This chapter is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine.**

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**Chapter Two**

I check the name on the clipboard_. Edward Cullen_. Huh. Well, Edward Cullen, it's only right we get acquainted seeing as how I'm about to get up close and personal with that massive weapon you're sure to be concealing. Damn, I wish it was to do more than rip out hair follicles. _Complimentary blowjob, sir?_

Mr. McHottie—Edward—looks up as I approach. Fuck, if I thought he was gorgeous from a distance that was nothing compared to up close. His forest green eyes sparkle, and surrounding them are what I know _must _be falsies—no one has lashes that long. His lips part slightly and I swear I begin to pant. Jesus, I'll be lucky if I don't hump his leg. _This bitch is in heat, folks._

Okay, time to get it together.

"Mr. Cullen, I'm Bella and I'll be your beauty therapist today," I say politely. I mentally congratulate myself. "If you'd like to come through, we can get busy—g-get down to business, I mean."

_Smooth_. Maybe I congratulated myself a bit too soon.

"Please, call me Edward." He smiles, turning to the other guy as he gets to his feet. "Relax, Jas, a wax doesn't hurt any worse than last night."

My eyes grow wide. Fucking hell, what were they doing? Images of riding crops and McHottie in leather come to mind. _Kinky_. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in their bedroom. Or playroom.

I shake my head. I can totally be professional here, all I have to do is see him naked. Just any other client, right?

He follows me to treatment room three, where the wax is already heated up and waiting. "I'll give you a few minutes to get undressed. You can cover yourself with the towel and then we'll do the eyebrow wax first. Is that okay?"

"That's great." He smiles again, his perfect lips upturning slightly more on one side. _Ungh_. In my head, I'm dropping my cheekies. Better check I haven't dropped my _actual _panties. Nope, pants are still up. We're good. For now.

I give Edward three minutes before I knock on the door. He calls for me to come in.

My first thoughts as I enter are garbled nonsense mixed with pants and whimpers. His torso is like a work of art, chiselled with a dusting of chest hair, clearly-defined abs and a trail of dark bronze hair leading below the towel draped low across his waist. The V-shape of his pelvis is like a giant arrow guiding me home. God, what I wouldn't give to have a door key …

I move over to the waxing station so I can recover cognitive function, but looking at a shirtless Edward is like looking at the sun—the image imprints on your retinas.

"Damn it!" I hiss as I knock over a box of waxing sticks.

"Everything okay?"

"Sorry, I was just … um, cursing whoever was in here last; they left a mess," I say, flustered. "I don't do clutter. I like anal—shit_, _I mean order, I like _order_, I'm a bit anal like that. And now I've said anal. And shit. More than once."

Jesus _Christ_, shut the fuck up!

He chokes on a laugh, clearly wondering at my sanity. He definitely isn't alone in that one.

"So, are you new to the area?" I ask, dipping a stick in the molten wax and twirling it around.

"Yep, just moved from Seattle."

I take the wax and spread it between his brows. "Wow, that's a big change."

"Definitely. It's amazing to get so much sun; it's so wet up there."

_It's wet down here, too._

"Are you from here originally?" I ask, ignoring my girly parts as I press the cloth strip down.

"No, but my parents and brother came to live here a few years ago, so I left my job and I'm setting up with my partner."

Yep, definitely into cock. _Such a shame._

In a few minutes I finish with the eyebrow wax, pleased he wanted them kept thick and bushy, just tidied. Now onto the main event; I get to see what's under the towel.

I've said the words I'm about to say many a time before, but never has my face flushed as much. "Okay, if you can remove the towel now, get on all fours and just stick your backside in the air for me, holding your, um, penis."

His eyes bug out. "Bella?" He looks at me like I've really lost it. Maybe it's his first time?

"It's okay, Edward, I've done this lots of times before. How would you like it? Don't be shy, nothing fazes me."

Panic crosses his oh-so-handsome features. "No offence, but I thought this was a legit place ..."

"Don't worry; lots of men come in here."

"I'm sure they do, but ..."

I smile kindly at his sudden shyness. "I'll make it as painless as possible; I've had lots of experience. Trust me, it's always best to start with the anus."

"Well, that's great, but I didn't come here for _that _type of massage."

_Do I hear crickets chirping?_

Holy. Shit. He's expecting a motherfucking massage, and I'm telling him to stick his ass in the air and asking him how he'd like it? Jesus Christ, it could only happen to me.

_I'm so getting fired today._

I'm sure he can see the mortification on my face as I fumble for the clipboard on the counter. Yep, there it is in black and white: _eyebrow wax and full-body massage. _Trust my stupid ass to not read the damn thing.

"I am so, so sorry, Mr. Cullen. I was told I had a male client for a wax today and then I just assumed …"

"Oh God!" he groans. "Please tell me I didn't just call you a prostitute?"

"You wouldn't be the first today," I say with a dismissive wave. "Now, would you still like to go ahead with the massage or has my unprofessionalism completely put you off?"

He laughs shakily. "That massage sounds great."

I leave while he turns over, and try not to cry over the fact I won't get to see his dick. I bet it's pretty. And big. _There I go again. _

I take the opportunity to fetch a cup of cold water from the machine, hoping it will cool the heat in my cheeks—and down below, if you know what I mean. Sadly there's only one hose I want to douse my fire right now, and it doesn't pump for pussy

Back in the room, I feel like I'm setting up a romantic night with the low music and candles and massage oil. And the sexy man—can't forget the sexy man.

The moment my hands make contact with his skin, I feel a surge of warmth that has nothing to do with the massage oil. I will myself to focus, but all I can think about is what it would be like to touch him … inappropriately, lost in heated passion. _Concentrate_.

The closer I get to the towel, the harder I fight against my inner nympho. She's _so_ winning. I lower the offending material down a few inches and bite my lip against a whimper. His cheeks are pert and firm, and so biteable. Surely one nibble wouldn't hurt?

With the noises he's making and the oil and my hands touching, kneading and rubbing, I feel like I'm part of a most unsatisfying porno. It's cruel, really, like waving a chocolate bar in front of a PMSing woman then snatching it away.

My panties are absolutely drenched by the time the hour is up, and I really, really hope my voice doesn't come out all husky and shit.

It does. Of course it does.

"There we are, Mr. Cullen." I clear my throat. "I'm going to step outside now; take your time getting dressed and I'll meet you in reception."

"Thank you," he replies, and I'm surprised to hear _his _voice is as gravelly as mine. Huh. I would expect that if I was a big, burly masseur named Sven, but I'm not. Even if I do have a moustache I have to wax.

I pull the door behind me, resting my forehead against it. That had to be the most sexually-charged massage I've ever given, and I'm including my exes in that. After a minute, I blow out a breath and head back into reception, my nerves stretched thin.

There's nobody there apart from Rose, who's manning the desk while Charlotte is on her break. She smirks at me as I approach.

"How was the appointment with the sexy stud?"

"Apart from me thinking he was in for a wax downstairs and him thinking I was a whore? Brilliant. He dazzled me with his charms."

She gives a half-gasp, half-giggle. "I bet he did. So you didn't massage him? What have you been doing for the past hour, you dirty girl?"

"Oh, I massaged him, alright," I growl. "Fuck, I seriously need new panties. The abs … the chest hair … and _God_, the happy trail—I was so close to licking it, Rose! Screw propriety, Mr. McHottie, and screw me while you're at it!"

"Umm, Bella?"

"There must be something wrong with me, Rose," I continue, fanning my face, "I need some _relief_! Hell, I've been so hard up lately, every time we have a glass of wine I'm about two seconds from propositioning you and Ali for a threesome! It's been so long since I had anything up my vag other than my own fingers it was all I could do not to mount him and ride him like a bucking bronco right there on the massage table!"

Her lips are pursed to keep from laughing at my psychotic, horny self. "Bella …"

"What?" I snap, pissed at the interruption to my fantasies.

She looks over my shoulder and the deep sound of a clearing throat echoes through the silence.

_Oh shit._

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**Oh, Bella ...**

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	3. Chapter 3

**I'm glad you're enjoying! Thanks for the reviews!**

**Thanks to A-Jasper For-Me for beta'ing and Lolo84 for pre-reading.**

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**Chapter Three**

_This cannot be happening to me. _

I shut my eyes for a second and take a steady breath in. If I can't see him, he can't see me, right? I can tell he's still there, the delicious scent of massage oil and pure man filling my nostrils. I pray when I open my eyes I'll have been magically transported _anywhere _but here. No such luck, though.

Rose tries to stifle her giggles while she rings Edward up. And with my silence, the only other sounds are the bubbling of the fountain and the calming music. She tries to give him a discount for my error regarding treatments, but he protests.

"Best massage I've ever had," he says.

Even in my embarrassment, I'm a little smug.

However, I still can't look at him. I know I should say something, apologise, but there's still a chance he thinks I was talking about someone else. Any apology on my part is just gonna make shit more awkward.

Luckily Charlotte arrives, because _finally _Rose and I can go on our break. From the corner of my eye I see Edward walk over to the sofas to wait for his boyfriend. I know I shouldn't, but I want to look at him one more time, 'cause after the cluster-fuck that was this morning, I highly doubt I'll be seeing him again.

Rose leads me toward the lunchroom, and I take my chance. I trip over my feet when I find him staring straight back, and suddenly I'm falling. No, not in love; right to the goddamn floor.

"Motherfu-ricking shit!" My knee hits the floor right on the nerve, sending pain shooting up my leg. I'm half-sprawled on the floor, clinging to Rose's legs like a child on the first day of school, and my half-cursing seems to reverberate around the 'oasis of calm' (as our boss, Heidi, likes to describe the spa)_._

_Yep, I was right. I'm so getting fired today._

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"So, what happened then?" Angela, our other roommate, asks. They're all holding their sides from laughing so hard. I might not have lost my job—yet—but it's still too soon for me to see the funny side. Try again in a decade.

The four of us are sitting in the den, each with a glass of wine in hand, stuffed from the cartons of Chinese strewn across the coffee table. We don't usually eat takeout on a Monday, cutting back after the excesses of the weekend, but it was supposed to be my turn to cook tonight and there was no way that was going to happen after the day from hell.

Rose wipes her eyes; bitch is enjoying this far too much. "I dragged this one into the lunchroom before I cracked up, leaving the guy staring after her. The looks he was giving our girl here … well, I'm not convinced he's gay."

"Oh please," I scoff, "he's out-of-this-world gorgeous and he told me he's moving to set up with his partner. Not girlfriend—_partner_. Besides, how many straight men go for a bikini wax?"

"But he _didn't _go for a bikini," Alice points out.

"Well, his 'friend' did, right?" I ask, air quotes and all. "I'm telling ya, they're a couple. A mighty fine one as well; I'd like to be the meat in that sandwich."

Rose sputters on her wine. "Honey, last time I waxed you, you were definitely the pita pocket."

"Anyway," Alice giggles, "there's still no concrete evidence he's gay. It _does _sound like he's taken, though."

"Ya think?" I take a gulp of wine. Drinking on a work night never ends well, yet I'll be damned if that's gonna stop me. "I should have known the day would go to hell the moment I saw we had a special offer on topiary pubic hair."

"D'you reckon he'll come back?" Angela asks.

I shoot her a 'what-the-fuck' look. "Did you not hear the story, Ang? Would _you _come back?"

"Well, _I _might, but then again I've always been hot for you, Bells."

"Does Ben know what a hussy he's dating?"

She laughs. "Why else do you think he's with me?"

I grin at my friend. I met Angela Weber in middle school when she moved to Phoenix. On paper I guess we weren't an obvious friendship—she had the book smarts, me not so much. But we did share a sense of humour and the same taste in music and movies. She helped me pass calculus and I helped her with hair and make-up. I'd say that's an even trade off, no?

Angela is the most mature and together of us all. She's got a steady boyfriend, a job as a therapist—one that doesn't groom pubic hair—and could probably afford to move out all on her own if she was so inclined. We don't think it'll be long before Ben pops the question, either. Makes you sick, doesn't it? I kid, I kid.

"Anyways," I continue, "it's a moot point. Even if he was straight and single, I'd never be able to look him in the eye again after today."

Alice wraps her arms around me. "It could be worse."

"_How?_"

"Easily. You could have pulled the towel off without asking. You could have burnt his pretty face with wax. You could have burnt his pretty c—"

I raise my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay I get your point. Thank you for the perspective."

"Who's for more wine?" Rose asks. She's off tomorrow and Ali has the late shift, which means they're going to drink like fish tonight and I'll get caught up in the fuckery. _Yep, there I go holding out my glass. _

Someone's phone vibrates across the room, the buzzing reminding me of something.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Kate Denali's cousin is hosting a Sexy Sinners party next Friday. She told me to bring some friends. You guys up for it? There'll be food and drink."

"Sex toys, drink and food?" Alice asks. "Hell yeah, I'm in."

"Me too."

"And me."

"Awesome, I'll let her know." I grin wickedly. "I might need to put in some overtime to cover the cost of all the shit I'm gonna buy."

"You know," Alice says, "Demetri has a friend …"

"Ugh, thank you, but no thank you. No set-ups with Demetri's friends. Met them once, they're a shady bunch; I think they're in the mob."

"Do we even have a mob in Phoenix?" Angela asks, her lips twitching.

I wave my hand. "Eh, semantics."

"Bella, you read far too many conspiracy theories." Alice rolls her eyes. "Demetri's friends aren't _that _bad."

"Still, I'll pass. I have a cat, you guys, and very soon a drawer full of vibrators. That's all I need."

Rosalie and Alice both have a fuck buddy, you see. Sure, I might think Royce and Demetri are total sleazeballs—hell, even Rose and Ali think they're sleazeballs—but at least my friends are getting some on the regular. Even my rescue tabby, Felix, gets more action than I do. I'm telling ya, that boy gets some serious pussy. _Snicker_.

It's not that I don't attract guys, 'cause I do. And it's not that I've never had boyfriends, 'cause I have—I just prefer to call them assholes. And frankly I see more than my fair share of those at work.

"How did that come up with Kate, anyway?" Rose asks. "I didn't know you were _that_ friendly."

I shrug. "I think she felt sorry for me. She asked if there were any men on the scene and I said no. Also, she's super happy since Garrett proposed."

Alice's mouth drops open. "Shut _up_! He put a ring on it? But they're so young!"

"How young?" Angela asks.

"Twenty-one," I tell her. "To be fair, they do seem genuinely in love … he proposed with a romantic picnic under the stars."

We're all silent for a moment and I can tell the girls are picturing the same thing—the four of us, wrinkled and grey sitting around with a hundred cats, the volume of the TV deafening, and knitting in our laps. I don't even like knitting, but it's a rule in the Phoenix Care Home for Sad Spinsters and Washed-Up Old Maids. _It's a working title. _

Rose, no doubt freaked out by the same sad image as me, gets to her feet. "Phish Food or Cookie Dough?"

We all speak glumly at the same time. "Both. Bring the tequila."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for the reviews! And to my beta, A-Jasper For-Me, and pre-reader, Lolo84 :)**

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**Chapter Four**

When Saturday—the day of the Tanner-Biers wedding—rolls around, Rose and Alice are up at a godforsaken hour. But unlike them, I've got the whole weekend off. That's the problem with working midday ceremonies, you have to get up at the ass crack of dawn.

Angela is out with Ben, so I'm home alone. Just like Macaulay Culkin. Huh. That movie freaked me out—seriously, who leaves their child behind? And burglars? Jeesh, that was no laughing matter, people; I had nightmares for weeks.

Anyways, I'm sprawled out on the sofa, 'cause as much as I'd love to go swimming and work on my tan, we're in the desert. Late August afternoons get pretty damn hot. I yawn, disturbing Felix who's currently on my chest, rubbing his head against my boobs to get some attention. _Flirt._

"I've put your lunch out," I tell him. "It's not my fault you're being a fussy eater."

He gives me the eyes—you know, like puppy-dog eyes, but he's a cat, so … anyway, I try not to fall for it. He may seem harmless but he's an expert manipulator. _True story._

I hear a key in the door followed by the voices of Alice and Rose.

"The wanderers return," I call. "How was it?"

They come into the living room, both immaculate of course, and sink onto the other couch. Seeing as how we're in the beauty business, everyone has to be perfectly made up on shift—it's actually in our contracts to wear lip gloss at all times when working.

Alice sighs. "Poor Bree is all I can say. I mean, we made her look great, but having _that_ for a mother-in-law? Or maybe I should say monster-in-law." She shakes her head. "No, thank you."

"At least she has a mother-in-law."

"Alright, Debbie Downer, look what we picked up," Rose says, rifling through her tote and pulling out a flyer. She hands it to me with a "ta da!" and jazz hands to boot.

"Speed dating?" I ask, my eyes scanning the glossy leaflet.

Alice nods. "It's taking place at the same hotel in a few weeks."

"Dear God," I groan, raising my hand to my forehead. "Has it come to this already?"

"It can't be _that _bad."

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. "I prefer a little romance on my dates. I want fire and passion, and sweet words and kisses from a guy who knows how to treat a woman!" I sigh dreamily, thoughts of Edward Cullen coming to mind. "I'm traditional—sue me. Basically I want the opposite of _this_."

"Why sit through a bad date when you can reject the losers after two minutes?" Rose asks. "Then you can have as much romance as you want. Let's face it, what we're doing now isn't working."

I huff. "Look, I get it ... in theory. It just seems so … _clinical._"

"We're about to turn thirty; we need to take control of our lives," Alice says with force, "and this is a great place to start. There have to be some decent men there."

I nod, but if I'm honest, my thoughts the past week have been consumed by one man and one man only. That's right, I'm pining for an unavailable and unattainable sexy fucker by the name of Edward Cullen. Did I mention him already? If he was single and straight, I might have had a chance—before everything went to shit, of course.

As the mortification has slowly faded, I've found myself focusing on more pleasant things—his handsome face and crooked smile, sculpted, manly chest and what it was like to touch him. As you can imagine, my showerhead has become my new best friend.

"Bella!" Rose barks, snapping her fingers. "Stop daydreaming and get with the program!"

"Alright, bitch, keep your extensions on; I'll go."

Before I can raise my arms, a cushion hits me square in the face.

* * *

I've got a mile-long list of toiletries and random shit to get by the next day, so I decide to bite the bullet and head for Walmart. Why is it you always run out of everything at the same time? Last month I spent almost $200 replenishing my personal make-up bag, and even then I hardly had anything to show for it. No make-up for me today though; Sunday is my slob day. Gotta let them pores breathe, folks.

Anyway, I'm darting in and out of shoppers, all the while playing the theme tune to _Mission: Impossible _in my head. Evidently there's a sale on and some bright spark—namely me—didn't realise until it was too late. It's not the women I'm scared of, 'cause I could totally take them. I'm badass. No, it's the kids that make me run for my life. Their parents are so caught up fighting amongst themselves they don't notice their demon spawn running wild. When did kids stop being scared of strangers?

Any sane person would get the hell outta dodge, I know this, and so what do I do? I find myself stuck at the other end of the store in the last pharmacy aisle.

_Goddamn superstores!_ Seriously, I need a fucking map to find my way around, and then _just _when I think I've got it mastered, they move everything.

Anyway, the pharmacy aisle is actually not the worst place to be—at least it's quiet, with only one other woman by the hair removal section. I wonder if she'd mind me giving her my business card.

I've just thrown a couple of boxes of tampons and some Femfresh wipes in my basket, when I notice a familiar shock of bronze hair coming around the corner. I do a double take, naturally, because life can't be this cruel, can it?

It can.

He hasn't seen me yet, and although he probably won't recognise me, I am not taking that risk. I try to escape out the other end of the aisle, but _of course_ there's a motherfucking stock cart there, completely blocking the way.

Time for plan B. I pull my cell from my purse, 'cause no one would bother someone on the phone, right?

"Bella?"

_Balls. _I was clearly a bad person in a past life. Maybe I was a telemarketer.

Not wanting to seem like I'm trying to avoid him, I grab the first thing that comes to hand and get out my metaphorical shovel again.

"Hmm, I don't know, Alice," I say, testing my acting skills. "Yeah … uh huh …"

Edward McHottie Cullen stops in front of me and I point towards my phone, mouthing 'sorry'. _Please, please move along. _

He doesn't, he just nods and waits. Fuck, he's gorgeous. What I wouldn't give to have his head buried between my thighs…

Then it happens. No, not the pussy licking. Unfortunately. I feel it before I hear it—that vibration against my ear a split second before the ringing resounds through the aisle. Maybe I was Hitler in a previous life?

Every ring compounds my sheer and utter embarrassment, but I don't even bother to silence it. I slowly lower my cell back into my bag.

"Bella?" he asks, and I can hear the amusement. "Were you trying to avoid me?"

I laugh, a high-pitched noise too unsteady to be natural. "Of course not! I must have gotten disconnected. I was just getting my friend's opinion on—" I look at the item in my hands and immediately thrust it back on the shelf.

"Anal lubricant?" Edward finishes for me.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can't actually find _any _words to make this better. _I'll take the homemade humiliation with a side of mortification and a just a soupçon of shame to go, thank you very much._

I decide to just deflect. "So, Edward, you … um, come here often?"

_You come here often? _I. Am. A. Loser.

His lips twitch but to his credit, he doesn't laugh. I can tell he wants to, though. _Fucker. _

"Not really, ya know since I've only been living here a couple of months," he says, but his words are teasing. "I didn't realise there was a sale on. I'm taking refuge."

"Yeah, me too. Well, and I had some essentials to get." _Somebody gag me. Preferably McHottie in leather._

"Oh yeah, you can't get by without—" He looks in my basket. "—tampons."

"I know, right?" I titter nervously. "Anyway, I best be off, things to do, people to see. Maybe I'll do—_see_—you around?"

He smirks. "Maybe you will, Bella. Maybe you will."

* * *

**Please review :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So FFn played up again yesterday when I tried to post. It sent the link out but the chapter didn't appear. Let's try again!**

**Thanks for your reviews! Seriously, they make me smile :) And thanks to A-Jasper For-Me for beta'ing and Lolo84 for pre-reading.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

I'm grateful Edward hasn't made good on his word to 'see me around'. I mean, how much humiliation can one person take?

The week has been long and tedious, and come Friday I'm more than ready for it to be over. Scratch that, I was ready for it to be over the moment my alarm went off on Monday morning. I've been in a funk and can't seem to shake it, but we've got the Sexy Sinners party tomorrow night, so at least I have something to look forward to.

I'm with another newbie to _Essential, _an eighty-five year old woman named Shelly Cope. I make sure I read _all_ of the information this time, but when I do, I have to look twice.

_Hollywood wax? _

I keep my professional face on as I ask for confirmation.

"Oh yes, dear, this is an eightieth birthday present for my Bert," she says candidly. "He's always wanted to see me bare, the old horndog."

I choke on air. And maybe a little vomit. "Um, that's nice of you."

I think it can't get worse, but it does. God, it does.

"If you can bend your knees and let your legs fall to each side as much as you can."

"Oh don't worry, sweetheart; I'm very flexible, just ask my husband." She smirks. "Tell me, Isabella, have you ever tried a sex swing? How about tantric sex? It keeps you young, you know; it wouldn't hurt for you to start."

I don't know where to focus my concentration, the wrinkly nether regions, the sex advice from the kinky old woman, or the veiled jibes about my age. This is definitely something out of my nightmares.

When she starts giving me tips on how to catch a man, I know I have hit a new low. But it's when I find myself listening that I realise things are even worse than I feared.

In the end, it's the sex positions for the over-seventies that make me switch off—it's far too disturbing, like having your gran tell you about her exploits. By the end of the treatment, I know far more about the Copes' sex life than I ever wanted or needed to; I actually feel rather violated. I mean, yeah, good on them for still getting it on in their eighties—I hope I'm as frisky at that age—but did she have to tell me _so _much? Mental note: over-sharing is not limited to gay men.

The silver lining to that very grey cloud is that as Mrs. Cope walks out the door, I'm finished for the day. Unfortunately, I'm having dinner with my mother so I can't even try and erase the images of octogenarian sexcapades with my buddy José Cuervo.

He'll wait for me, though; he's good like that.

* * *

Now, before I go any further, let me add this disclaimer: I love my mom, but I reserve the right to bitch about her—loudly. Renée is not the easiest person to deal with; she likes to find fault in everything and everyone. I don't think she even notices she's doing it. Nana Higginbotham was the same with her, so I guess it's a learned behaviour.

Of course, she's waiting at the table when I arrive. We greet each other with a hug, and then I can finally sit down. My feet sigh in relief, and I don't hesitate to order myself a glass of Pinot Grigio.

"Are you still enjoying things at the salon?" Her voice holds a hint of condescension; I know she wanted me to be something more 'serious', a teacher or lawyer or nurse, but this is what I always wanted to do.

"Yes, it's very rewarding," I tell her. I try not to think of old Mrs Cope.

She raises her eyebrows sceptically, but says nothing. Now comes the next wave of attack as she studies me over the rim of her wine glass. "You look tired, Bella."

I grit my teeth. "I've been on my feet for nearly nine hours, Mom; of course I'm tired."

"Have you been using the face cream I gave you? Your skin's a little sallow."

_She's just trying to help, she's just trying to help, _I chant in my head. I mean, maybe my face isn't as bright as it could be, but I know I'm rocking a decent tan.

"I have an excellent beauty regime, Mom."

"Good, I wouldn't want those laugh lines to turn into crevices."

_Do not kill your mother, do not kill your mother._

I ignore her and peruse the menu. "Have you seen Dad recently?"

"Oh yes. He's fine, working hard as usual."

My dad, Charlie, is one of the most senior officers in the Phoenix police department. I got my dark brown hair and brown eyes from him, along with my sense of humour. He's also the one to blame for my moustache. Seriously, if I let that fucker grow, I'd be a dead ringer for Charlie Swan.

Anyway, my parents aren't together anymore; they divorced when I was seven. It wasn't a case of wanting different things, but of wanting one very similar thing indeed. Yes, you've guessed it, my father is out of the closet, as loud and proud as a member of the Village People at Gay Pride. He certainly looks the part with the tache and the police uniform. He's very happy with his life partner, Billy, and he and Mom are still friends. See, she's not _all _bad.

My question leads her off on a tangent though, and I'm pleased I've managed to keep the conversation—and spotlight—off of me for almost the entire meal. I fall into the trap of thinking I'm doing well; I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I foolishly allow myself to relax. But then in a moment of silence as I take a sip, I know what's coming. It's written all over her face.

"I hear Lauren Mallory had a baby last month." Mom eyes me carefully for a reaction. Evidently, I need some more prodding. "She's a year younger than you."

I feel like I'm sucking a lemon as I smile. "That's nice for her."

She huffs at my refusal to take the bait. Phase one is a fail.

"And the Uley boy, he's your age and his wife is expecting their second child."

I hum. "Good for him." _Strike two._

Her cheeks are growing red, whether from the wine or anger I can't be sure. "Look, I met Mrs. Newton the other day. Her son is single, decent-looking and has a good job. I think he should be your date to your birthday party."

I remember Mike Newton from school—a typical jock and a typical jerk. _Definitely _not my type. "Mom, no offence, but I think I'll pass."

She drops her cutlery in frustration. "Really, Bella! You're going to be thirty in two weeks; you can't afford to turn down dates. And as you're not finding them yourself …"

"Who says?"

"Oh, so you _are _dating?"

"Yes." It's out before I can stop myself. "It's quite new though, so I'm not broadcasting it."

"Well, tell me more! What's his name? What does he do? Age? Is he good-looking?"

"I don't trust you not to Google him, so I won't tell you his name yet," I lie. Well, it's a half-truth; if I _was _dating someone, I definitely wouldn't trust her not to cyber-stalk him.

Now, here's the problem. When I'm put on the spot like this, I get too detailed with my lies. It's a nervous habit; I can't seem to stop myself talking, and thus dig my hole even deeper.

"He, um, has his own business … he's a couple years older, very good-looking, smart. He owns a house here. He's a real gentleman, ya know, gives me flowers, holds doors open and sh—stuff." I shrug. "But as I say, it's really new." _Like, two minutes new._

Mom looks smug—pleased, but still smug. "Well then, I look forward to seeing him at your party. Otherwise, Michael won't mind coming along."

I laugh shakily and take a gulp of wine.

_Holy shitballs, Batman. I'm in serious trouble here._

* * *

**Anyone else had/have those moments when you'll say anything to get your mother off your back?**

**Oh, and the old lady story? Based on truth. My beauty therapist told about it ... while she was waxing me. Awkward much?**

**Please review :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for your reviews! And to A-Jasper For-Me and Lolo84 for beta'ing and pre-reading (respectively). :)**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

I'm out of that restaurant faster than you can say 'Bella's screwed'. It's only eight-thirty, so I leave the car and join the girls at _Clearwater's_, our favourite bar on the outskirts of the city. It's in that slight lull between after-work socialisers and Friday night partiers, so I find Alice, Rose and some of the work girls easily enough. I cheer inwardly that Royce and Demetri aren't here—yet. They will be, of course.

"Hey, Bella! What can I get you?" Seth Clearwater, bar manager and son of the owner, greets me with a wave. We're regulars, can you tell?

"Hi, Seth. Two shots of Patron, please, and a Corona."

"Uh-oh," Alice and Rose both say.

"Exactly. I'm calling an emergency meeting of the Order of the Bunny." I hear your 'what the fuck?'. Well, let me tell you, the Order is a very selective, very secret society formed after a lot of cocktails. The Masons ain't got nothin' on us.

"I thought it was Order of the Kitty?"

"So did I," Alice adds.

I throw my hands up in the air. "Does it matter?! Bunny, kitty, what-the-fuck-ever. Translation, I need your help."

"Well, Angela's got a date with Ben," Rose tells me.

I nod as the drinks are placed in front of me. "You two will do."

"Gee, thanks."

I knock back the shots, one after the other and relish the good burn, and we separate ourselves from our work friends and go find a table before they're all taken.

"Come on then, tell us," Alice says when we've slipped into the booth.

So I begin. I start at work with old Mrs. Cope—because if I had to hear it, so do they—right through to when my mom went in for the kill and the resulting hole I've dug for myself. They listen intently as my voice gets slowly higher and faster until I sound like a fucking chipmunk.

"See?" I squeak. "Lauren—one baby. Sam—two babies. I have no babies! I had to say something! I don't want to have Mike Newton's babies!"

Alice lays a hand on my arm to calm me. That's good, I think I was about to hyperventilate.

"Let me get this straight," Rose says slowly. "You told your mom you are dating a handsome, smart, thirty-something home and business owner, who gives you flowers and acts like a gentleman, and you are bringing him to your birthday party which is in two weeks' time."

"Correct."

"Jesus Christ, Bella!" she exclaims. "We've been searching for guys like that for over two years and now we've got to find one in two _weeks_? Guys like that don't exist anymore!"

"I know!" I groan. "I need me a time machine to find one!"

Rose punches my arm playfully. "No, you need a time machine to go back and stop stupid shit coming out your mouth."

I drop my head onto her shoulder. "What am I gonna do, you guys?"

"I think we've got four main options," Alice says, counting them on her fingers. "One, the most obvious: just turn up alone."

"That's off the table; Mom will have Mike Newton ready to swoop in if I'm alone."

"Okay, option two: craigslist."

"Jeez, thanks for thinking so highly of me," I say sarcastically. "They might be a serial killer or a rapist or something."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, three: escort agency."

"Yeah, I can imagine _that_ going down well if my dad found out." I shake my head at the thought, sitting up straight. "And if I have to pay someone to date me, then I might as well cut my losses and just get Felix some friends from the shelter."

"Which leaves us with option four," Rose says, raising an eyebrow.

"Which is?"

"The old-fashioned way, of course. We scope the room."

"Rose, this is _Clearwater's. _We come here most Friday nights, I doubt there will be anyone dynamic."

"Would you quit being such a Negative Nancy?" she snaps, my pessimism finally getting to her. "We're trying to help. Now, what about him?"

I follow her gaze to the guy standing at the bar. He's not bad-looking I guess, but I'm not feeling the ponytail. Beggars can't be choosers, though; I should at least see if he meets my criteria.

With a push from Rose, I make my way up on the pretence of getting another round.

I'm within five feet when I know it's gonna be a fail. He's not smiling at me, but leering; creepy, not sexy. I immediately know this guy isn't a gentleman. Why couldn't I have said I was dating another ass? There's enough of them around.

I get us another drink, by-passing the creeper, and turn to head back to the girls. However, they're not alone. They're talking to three men; one with wavy blond hair, one big burly guy with dark hair, and the last a very familiar bronze. Is it too late to run?

"Bella!" the girls call.

Evidently, it is. _Bitches just got on my shit list. _

Edward smiles at me as I approach, and I grin weakly in return. I grit my teeth and slam the bottles of beer down in front of my two friends.

"Bella, you remember Edward," Rose says. "And this is Jasper Whitlock and Emmett Cullen."

"Nice to meet you," I say politely, sliding into my seat beside Alice. See, I've got manners. Although, the only reason I can be in Edward's presence right now after my last display of asstard-ery is the alcohol in my system. I'm tequila brave.

"So, are you all settled in now?" I ask him and Jasper. "Everything set up?"

Edward nods. "Yeah, lots of hard work involved, but we're getting there. We're going through an adjustment period."

"Yeah, we're both used to being in charge of people," Jasper adds, "but this one really likes to crack the whip."

My eyes bulge. See what I mean? Over-sharers.

"Oh, um, do you … like that?"

"It gets the job done," Jasper says, shrugging.

Alice's eyes match mine. "How did you meet?"

"I rescued him from the clutches of this guy, Alec." Edward laughs warmly at the memory. "I'd known him for a while; nice enough, but it's like he's got this power to make you blind to everything around you. Anyway, Jasper and I got talking and found we shared the same ideals. We toyed with involving Alec, 'cause he's really good at what he does, but you know what they say; three's a crowd. We find we produce a lot more when it's just the two of us."

The image of three naked men dances across my vision accompanied by bad porno music. I feel Rose close my mouth for me. _Thanks, honey, you're off the shit list._

In the silence, Edward and Jasper are watching Alice and me like we're mentally impaired. Well, I'm sure Edward thought that about me before.

"Girls, restroom break?" Rose asks.

We gladly accept and make our way through the people beginning to gather on the little dance floor. There's only a couple of other girls in the bathroom and they're not paying us any attention.

"Bella, you're right," Alice says. "They're totally gay."

I nod sadly, pulling my lip gloss out of my purse. Force of habit.

Rose shakes her head. "I think you're wrong."

That makes me pause, mid-application. "Are you freakin' serious? Did you not hear them go on about whips and threesomes?"

The other girls in the restroom turn to look at me. I just smile politely, watching as they leave.

When we're alone, Rose continues. "Look I have the best gaydar around, and I'm not picking up _any_ vibes from them. And while I admit it sounded bad, I still think you're making assumptions."

"Well, how do we find out?"

Her smile is sly. "We dance."

* * *

Our table has the perfect view of the dance floor and we make sure we're right in their line of sight. Now, we aren't novices when it comes to dancing. I mean, I won't be gracing the stage or anything—at least not the theatrical one—but a few years back we took some hip hop and pole-dancing classes. Great for the figure, for fun, and great if the beauty industry ever goes bust. It's always good to have a back-up career.

_Daddy would be so proud._

We're already dancing when the song Rose requested begins to play, and we gravitate towards each other. It's late enough now that other people are dancing provocatively, so we don't look like attention-starved hussies.

Rose is dancing behind me, her arms over my shoulders, while Alice works her tiny form down to the floor, brushing up against me as she comes back up.

We make sure we don't look over to the guys—yet—and keep up our grinding and lithe movements. I've got a hand in my hair as I get lost in the rhythm of the music, pressed up close to my girls.

"Bella," Rose says, her mouth next to my ear, "look over now. I think we have our answer."

I gulp. _Moment of truth._

* * *

**Eek! I'm sorry, but come on, you so know what's coming. Hehe, I didn't mean that to sound dirty.**

**Please leave me some love :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to everyone for your reviews, I LOVE reading them! Thanks to A Jasper For Me for beta'ing and Lolo84 for pre-reading.**

**Onward...**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"Okay, so they're definitely not gay," I say as we head for our table, the guys still staring at us open-mouthed. "But that doesn't tell us whether or not they're together."

That seems to be the end of the road for Rose; she's never had much patience. "Oh for fuck's sake, let's just ask!"

The guys seem to shake themselves out of their stupor as we slip into the booth, as if they were in a trance, only woken up by our return. _Yeah, we still got it. _I'm tempted to lick my finger and make a sizzling noise. I don't, just so you know.

"Jasper, Edward," Rose says, ignoring my kick to her shin, "please excuse me for asking, but are you a couple?"

Edward begins choking on the sip of beer he'd just taken while Jasper's eyes bug out. Only Emmett is laughing. Loudly.

"Well?" Rose presses. See? No patience. And apparently, no manners.

Jasper is the first to answer. "Um, I think I speak for both of us when I say … what the fuck?"

"Ha! Pay up, bitches!" Rose crows. "My gaydar is never wrong!"

"Whoa!" Edward exclaims, turning to me. "Bella, you thought I was _gay_?"

"Um, maybe?"

I look for some support from Alice, but she throws me under another bus. "Guys, why don't we go get another drink?"

_Traitor. _

Emmett is the only one to complain, but Rose whispers something in his ear that perks him right up. His mood, I mean, not … anything else. Though knowing my friend and her persuasive tactics, that's also a possibility.

I watch through narrowed eyes as the four of them head for the bar. I need new friends.

I know I can't delay the inevitable, so I turn nervously to the sexy man across from me. He lifts his bottle of beer to his lips and takes a sip, never removing his eyes from mine. I can't help but watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. _Gosh, he's pretty._

"Well, beautiful?"

"I …" _want to lick you._ "I … um, um … you … and … kinky sex!"

"O-kay," Edward says slowly, "as much as I'd like to discuss kinky sex with you in a _lot _more detail, I fail to see what that's got to do with you thinking I'm gay."

"At the salon! You were with Jasper and told him a wax wouldn't hurt as much as what you did the night before!"

"Jas lost a game of _paintball_ and had to get a chest wax as a forfeit!"

"But … but you said you were moving to set up with your partner!"

"Yes, to set up a firm … with my _business_ partner."

Oh. _Oh. _

"And Alec—"

"_—_was a potential third party in the company," Edward finishes with a groan. "Well, this is embarrassing."

"What? Why would _you_ be embarrassed? Have you _met _me?"

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, Bella, I've met you, and it kinda knocks a guy's ego when the girl he's crushing on thinks he's gay."

_Sexy man say what?_

"I'm sorry," I rush out. "For thinking you were gay, I mean. Not that I have anything against gays. Is that the pc term? You wouldn't know, of course, 'cause you're not gay. Not like my dad. He's gay. And now I'm rambling after you said you're crushing on me! Gah!"

"Breathe, Bella."

I take his advice and ignore the amusement all over his handsome face. It's a good thing he's pretty or he'd get a slap.

"I'm surprised you haven't run away screaming yet," I say. "I wouldn't blame you."

"Do you _want _me to run away screaming?"

"Nuh-uh." Articulate, aren't I? I clear my throat and try again. "What I should have said is: I'm sorry for putting two and two together and making five. I'm very pleased you're straight, 'cause I'm kinda crushing on you, too."

"Only kinda?" he teases. "You're just killing my ego today."

"Oh please, like you didn't hear me tell Rose I wanted to ride you on the massage table!"

His eyes darken as he licks his lips and leans in further. "Just for the record, I wouldn't have minded one bit if you did. I seem to recall most of your speech verbatim. You're not very quiet you know … or at least, I hope you won't be." He winks, and my panties melt. "And yes, I know that sounded an awful lot like a line. I'm not actually an ass."

_No, but you have a mighty fine one._

He's smirking at me. "Thanks."

_Shit, I need to buy a filter. _

"Although," he continues, "on the dance floor just now, you seemed rather more interested in your friends' asses. Are these the ones I should be worried about you having a threesome with?"

"Well, I _am _getting tired of masturbating."

For the second time that night, he chokes on a sip of beer. "Fucking hell, Bella."

"You picturing the threesome or the masturbating?"

He smirks. "Both, but both involve me watching."

Our flirting gets more and more heated as the night wears on. Drinks are consumed, but not enough to get me wasted. Just buzzed. However, my perpetual state of horniness only increases with my liquid courage. We end up on the dance floor, which certainly doesn't douse the fire, ya know? It's grinding, bodies pressed together, and an erection in my lower back, before we finally take a break and sit back down.

"So, was I really the best you ever had?" I ask provocatively, making him throw his head back in laughter.

"As a masseuse? I wouldn't know, I was too busy trying to think unsexy thoughts so I wouldn't pitch a tent under the towel."

Something akin to a whimper escapes me.

"And in regards to _other _things," he says, his face edging closer to mine, "I know you will be … but I can't wait to find out." His presses his lips just below my ear, killing me in the process.

There's hardly any room between us, and the combination of Edward, alcohol, and plain old horniness pushes any rational thought from my mind; I kiss him. Hard. Who am I kidding? I would have pounced anyway. Those things just justify my promiscuity (_please_ let there be promiscuity!).

He's kissing me back, teasing me almost, but the moment I moan at his minty-beery-manly taste, he lets go. Thank fuck. It's a good job it's dark in here, 'cause he lifts me into his lap, and I can feel him, hard and huge in his jeans.

I grind against him, unable to resist; sexually frustrated, remember?

"Jesus Christ, baby," he groans. "I want you so fucking much."

"You should do something about that."

He presses his forehead against mine. "I wanted to ask you out first."

"Then ask me."

His lips twitch. "Will you go to dinner with me next week?"

"Sure, now will you take me home and fuck me?"

This time it's something much further south that twitches.

* * *

We giggle our way through his front door, always touching and kissing. I'm sure it's a lovely house, but right now, I don't care about a tour. I want a one-way ticket to Orgasmville via the bedroom. Or kitchen. Or living room. You get my point.

My dress comes off, and I'm pressed up against the wall, panting and writhing. His fingers are in my panties, lips are on my neck, and it's so _fucking _good. Dirty words in my ear and touches in all the right places have me on the edge, and then … I'm coming hard.

By the time we reach the bedroom, my bra has gone the same way as my dress, and Edward is shirtless once again. I'm gonna do much more than massage him this time.

"So fucking sexy," he growls, lifting me up and tossing me onto the bed.

Now _that _is sexy.

While he unbuckles his belt, I can't help but crawl over and lick his abs.

"Oh baby," he groans, sliding his jeans and boxer-briefs down. "Be a good girl and suck me?"

I can't even form a coherent response, because his thick, hard cock is right fucking _there. _So I do the only thing I can; I put my speechless mouth to good use.

I lick, tease, fondle, and suck, looking up through my lashes to get him good. He curses and grunts, weaving his fingers through my hair, and it's not long before he tells me to stop. I'm not happy about that.

"Don't pout, beautiful; we've got plenty of time for that." He slides my panties off, then reaches into the nightstand drawer, making me almost tremble in anticipation.

I'm bare before him—well, almost bare—and I palm my tits, which I swear makes him almost lose it as he rolls the condom down his length. _Ungh_. I need to watch him pleasure himself. Soon.

Then he's positioned just right, and I feel him push in.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

It's a stretch and a pleasurable burn, inch by delicious inch, and so fucking amazing. I'm a whimpering, mewling, moaning mess as his thrusts pick up, his eyes surprisingly tender yet still filled with lust and passion.

"Harder, Edward," I beg, completely unashamed.

He growls, lifting my leg over his shoulder and increasing the tempo. He's fucking me hard and fast but long and deep and it's _so _good it's almost too much. I don't know which way is up anymore, it's just all pleasure everywhere I turn.

Sweat beads on his forehead, tendons straining in his neck as he pounds his hips harder against mine.

"Play with your clit, Bella."

His demanding tone sends another rush of arousal seeping over his cock. I do as he orders, his eyes glued to the movement of my fingers, and I begin to tremble, so fucking close.

"Let me feel it, baby," he pants. "I can't … _ungh_ …"

Another hard, deep thrust and I'm screaming out his name as I climax. Ecstasy floods me, spreading out in violent waves. It goes on and on as Edward thrusts erratically, groaning through his own release before he collapses on top of me, both of us panting.

Holy fuck. I think McHottie killed me.

* * *

**But what a way to go, Bella ... ;) So they didn't waste any time ... how do you think this will affect things?**

**Please review, see ya soon! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**The morning after the night before ... ;)**

**Thank you everyone for your reviews, and to A Jasper For Me for beta'ing!**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

The bed is empty when I wake in the morning, a slight throb in my head and an ache between my thighs. I don't like the first two things so much, but the ache? Yeah, that brings to mind all the hard fucking we did last night. And believe me; it was out of this world.

Speaking of fucking, I wonder where Edward's gotten to, 'cause I was hoping for another round. Anyway, it's not like he could have ditched me in his own house. Maybe he's making breakfast? Hah, yeah right. Men that hot, who are _that _good in bed, have no chance of being a good chef as well.

I decide to go look for him, but although I'm confident about my body, I'm not about to walk around stark naked. What if he had a roommate? Awkward much? However, it's a bit of a problem given my dress is somewhere downstairs, along with Edward's shirt. There's only one thing to do for it; the walk-in closet is beckoning. After I rinse my mouth.

_Damn, this is a pretty swanky place_, I think as the soft, cream carpet kisses my feet. It's not MTV Cribs level of swanky, but pretty nice all the same. His en suite is even more luxurious, with a huge tub and a big, glass shower stall that I wouldn't mind fucking in. Wouldn't mind at all. I don't like to nose around—much—so I take care of business, wash my face and swill some mouthwash.

In his closet, I find he's got a decent amount of clothes for a guy—enough to tell me he takes pride in his appearance, but not enough to worry me about his inclinations. We've already established he's straight. _Hells yeah we did. Several times._

I find his underwear drawer and slip on a pair of his boxers, and I'm just buttoning up a white dress shirt while shaking my ass when I hear him.

"Bella?"

"I'm not snooping! I'm not snooping!" I rush out of the closet, narrowly avoiding tripping over my own two feet. "I, um, was just …"

He's standing there in just black boxer-briefs holding a tray laden with waffles and pastries, orange juice and coffee, his mouth open. "Wow. You look … wow."

_The feeling's mutual. _

"I was gonna come look for you but … I needed some clothes."

"Well, you look, um, really good in my clothes." He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Oh, I made you breakfast."

"You _made _me breakfast?" I ask. "Are you freaking serious?"

He gives me that crooked smile that has me weak at the knees. "Sorry, I didn't know it would offend you so much."

"You can't be real. You're insanely hot, you fuck like a god, and you make me mouth-watering breakfasts. What's the catch?"

"Well, thank you; how about breakfast now that my ego is sufficiently stroked."

"I'd prefer to stroke something else."

"Killing me here, Bella," he groans. "Come try my syrup and freshly-squeezed juice."

"And I thought you wanted to eat?" _Damn, I crack myself up_.

Edward puts the tray down on the dresser and hoists me into his arms. "Minx! Right now, all I want to eat is your sweet little pussy." He brings his mouth to my ear, his tongue flicking the lobe. "Can I, baby? Can I lick your kitty 'til you come in my mouth?"

_My Cluedo-inspired tombstone shall read: Mr Cullen, in the bedroom, with the dirty mouth._

* * *

We end up eating cold pastries, but it's all good; I got to taste Edward's syrup anyway, and he got to taste my juice. _Snicker_.

He takes the tray downstairs, and I realise I haven't checked my phone. The girls will be either a) frantic with worry, or b) too involved with their own hunks of man meat to care. Either way, I feel I should let them know I didn't end up with the craigslist serial killer after all. I look around for my purse, but then I remember I dropped it last night in the heat of the moment when Edward had me pressed up against the wall. Good times were had by all, folks, good times indeed.

The thought of some sexy times with McHottie are making this ride wetter than Splash Mountain, so I slip his boxers and shirt on again, not bothering to button it up, and go in search of some more action.

"Oh Edward," I sing, heading downstairs, "how do you feel about defiling your kitchen worktop? Just the thought is making me so—"

"Bella!"

I freeze two-thirds of the way down. Edward in his semi-naked glory is standing there, along with two other people. An older couple, the female of whom looks appalled, is holding up what looks like … yep, that would be my bra. The man is smiling, beaming almost, and I notice just how similar to Edward he looks. Ah, fuck. Why's he grinning like that?

_Your tits are showing. _

"Oh Jesus!" I spin on my heel, running up the stairs faster than Usain Bolt.

"Very nice to see you, dear!" Daddy Cullen shouts after me.

I hear a thwack and then a shout of, "Ow, I was just being polite, Esme!"

Back in the bedroom, I shut myself in the en suite and curse my luck with every swear word I know, and some I've invented, too. Well, there goes my date with McHottie. Even if I could get past this most recent humiliation, there's no way he'd still want to take me out. God knows what I might do out in public.

"Bella?" Edward's voice is tentative as he knocks on the door a few minutes later. "Bella, I'm so sorry, they just barged in with their damn key. They've gone now; can you please come out?"

I slowly open the door. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Edward."

"Why? I told you no one lived with me; you should be able to wander around the house naked asking for sex." He winks, bringing a smile to my face. "And besides, I think you made my dad's year. He's one very happy birthday boy."

"Edward!"

"Too soon?"

"Much."

* * *

I shower after the morning's drama, wondering if my cheeks will ever go back to their normal colour, and then I really need to head home. I've got laundry to do (groan) and I'm out with the girls at the Sexy Sinners party tonight. Edward's sweet enough to offer me a lift to get my car. I don't know what he drives exactly—it's a shiny SUV, but cars aren't really my thing.

"Bella, I hope you know I didn't ask you out last night just to get you in bed," he says as we drive along.

"I'm glad. I'd hate to have to knee you in the junk." I giggle. Jeez, I can't seem to stop giggling. "Wait a minute, though, you mean you actually still want to go on a date?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"Because all I do is embarrass myself, and you by association!"

"That's not all you do; I seem to remember some amazing things you did last night."

"Edward, I'm serious!"

"So am I. Bella, if you want rid of me, you're gonna have to do a whole lot more than flash your tits at my family. Though please try and keep them under wraps in the future. I'd hate to have to beat some guy's ass, especially my dad's."

I smack his arm lightly as we pull up at the restaurant where I met Mom last night. "So, when are you wining and dining me?"

"Well, I was going to suggest next Friday, but maybe I could see you before? I would suggest tonight but I've got a family thing."

"That's good 'cause I wouldn't have been able to go anyway," I tell him. "Girly night."

"Does that involve underwear and pillow fights?"

"Better, it involves underwear and sex toys."

He sputters, eyes widening. "You're going to a lesbian orgy?"

Huh, I guess it did sound like that.

"No," I laugh, "the lingerie and sex toys are for sale."

"Well, um, that's … yeah," he stammers. I like seeing him flustered for a change.

"So, the date?" I prompt.

"Oh! Yeah, how's tomorrow? Say, 7 PM?"

I check the date against my built-in day calendar. Luckily, it's Labour Day on Monday, so we won't be constrained by time. "That sounds really good."

His resulting beam is blinding. We exchange numbers, and then he leans in. Jesus, he smells good. Car sex, anyone? Apparently not, but the long, sweet kiss he plants on my lips almost makes up for it. Almost.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bella."

"Yeah," I say, dazzled. "See you tomorrow."

I get out of the car, and he waits until I'm safely in mine with the engine running before he drives off. I totally want to have a squeal and a kick in glee, but I refrain for the time being, and set off for home.

The girls' cars are all there when I pull up in the driveway, and I'm keen to find out how their nights went. The inquisition starts the moment I open the front door, Angela waiting for me with her arms folded in mock sternness.

"Well, what time do you call this, young lady? Sluts, the lot of you!"

I laugh. "Where are the others?"

"Changing. We're going to lunch, so get your ass moving."

Eh, screw it; laundry can wait 'til tomorrow. Or Monday.

* * *

We end up at our favourite café/restaurant/bar for a late lunch. It's rare that Rose, Alice and I all have the weekend off, so we're making the most of it. My bank balance will suffer, but I figure life's to be lived.

"Come on," Angela says as we sit around the table, "I need the gossip; I'm dying here!"

Alice goes first, sighing. "Jasper's … dreamy. He's sweet and just ... yeah."

"Forget dreamy, did you fuck?" asks Rose, always to the point. Unfortunately it's the same moment the young waiter arrives with our drinks. The poor guy blushes and quickly puts the glasses on the table, scampering away.

"Nope."

"What?!" That's all of us.

"We messed around but we ended up just falling asleep together."

"Well at least you can tell us how big he was," Rose says.

"Just right," Alice answers cheekily. "What about Emmett?"

Rose scowls. "I wouldn't know."

"What?" Angela asks. "Why? Where've you been all night?"

"Easy, Mother, I was with him. But … argh … he's so infuriating and sexy and I don't think he wants the goods!"

"You were crazy for each other last night!" Alice exclaims.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, he's hot and definitely drives me crazy. But when he opens his mouth … I want to smack him and kiss him all at once."

"So what _did _you do all night?" I ask.

"We stayed late at the bar, long after you'd left—which we'll get to in a minute—then he wanted to go for food. _For food!_ It was late, his place was closer. We crashed there."

Great, I was the only one to put out _before _the first date. Go me! (That was sarcasm, if you couldn't tell.)

"Are you gonna see him again?" Angela asks her.

"I want to. We swapped numbers, but I'm not sure if he's interested." Rose shrugs and turns to me. "But what about you, you little hussy? By the looks of things, you were well and truly fucked."

"I don't kiss and tell."

Even I know I'm full of shit, and they burst out laughing, promptly listing every guy I've dated and on whom I've dished the dirt. My last semi-boyfriend (semi being the operative word) was a half-Russian guy called Vladamir. The girls soon nicknamed him Bladdamir due to his half-hourly visits to the bathroom, later explained by his stash of prescription drugs I found at his house. That explained the semis, too. So you see, is it any wonder I think Edward Cullen is too perfect?

"Okay, okay," I say, relenting. "He's just … amazing. Hot, gave me multiple orgasms, made me breakfast, more orgasms … just, yeah. We're going out tomorrow night."

"Think he could be a candidate for your birthday date?" Alice asks.

"Let's see how tomorrow goes first before I foist my mother on him." At the mention of the word mother, my cheeks grow red.

"What are you not telling us?"

So, I tell them. Because they're my girls and I know they'll be supportive. Yeah right! As soon as they get over their disbelief, all three of them are almost on the floor clutching their bellies laughing at my crazy ass.

I'm not amused.

By the time we finish our meal, it's nearly 5 PM, so we don't bother going home, we just move to the comfy sofas. We've got a couple more hours until the party and as we talk about it, Alice gets an idea.

"We can _so_ have some fun with the guys tonight," she says, rubbing her hands together like the evil genius she is. "Lingerie and dress-up plus camera phones."

Oh yes, I definitely like the sound of that. Edward Cullen, you have no idea what's about to hit you.

* * *

**Umm ... yeah. Anyone else anything this embarrassing? **

**Please leave me some love :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! And to A Jasper For Me for beta'ing and Lolo84 for pre-reading :)**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Rose whistles as the cab pulls up outside the address Kate gave me. She was right; the house _is _huge. The gates are open so we head straight up the driveway after paying the rather cheap fare—I think the driver gave us a discount because we're hot and were talking about vibrators. Just a hunch.

We're greeted at the double front doors by a dark-haired woman who kisses our cheeks enthusiastically. I _think_ it's Carmen, but I can hardly ask her. Come to think about it, how does she know we're here for the party? We could be Jehovah's witnesses about to get a nasty shock.

She leads us inside, to the women dotted around with canapés and glasses of wine in their hands. So far I've counted seventeen.

"It's a good thing it's big," Rose says. Unfortunately, at that moment the conversations around us all seem to stop and her voice reverberates around the foyer.

I try. I really, really try not to giggle, but I can't hold it in. Besides, if you can't laugh at penis innuendos at a lingerie and sex toy party, when can you? Soon, I'm holding my sides from full-on belly-laughs, and so is everyone else.

It's certainly an ice-breaker for those who don't know each other, and by the time we're ready to start the fun half an hour later, everyone is really pumped and ready to go.

A woman named Afton is running this shindig, and she's set up in the living room. The good stuff comes last, apparently, probably 'cause they figure once you've drunk more you'll buy more. Makes sense.

She asks for ten volunteers for a game, and I'm the first to raise my hand. We're all put into teams of two, my partner being Alice.

"Okay ladies," Afton says, lifting up what appears to be a huge pair of panties, "one of each pair will wear these sexy Bridget Jones-knickers while the other does the blowing … of the balloon." She winks. "Then you place the balloon inside your partner's big panties and you have to pop it … by using a sex position! The first pair to pop three balloons with three different positions wins!"

I end up in the granny panties, feeling a little stupid. But soon I'm laughing and laughing as the game begins and little Alice is blowing up the balloon with all her might. We decide to put it in the back and do it doggy style. _Oh dear Lord._

I'm on all fours in a stranger's living room, drowned in big panties with a balloon next to my ass while simulating sex. Everyone laughs as the five pairs do their best to pop the balloons, but it's like they're made of metal.

"You're doing it wrong!"

"Jesus, Bella, how hard can it be?"

"How the fuck should I know, last time I checked I had a vagina!"

When Rose and Angela pop their balloon first, I urge Alice on again.

"Come on, harder!"

"Alright you demanding little bitch! I'm trying!"

I'm pushing back and giggling at the same time. "Maybe you didn't blow it enough first?"

"I couldn't have blown it much more; it's full to burst, Bella, I need to get it just right!"

"Oh, I feel something!"

"Well you fucking well should!"

Finally, we hear a bang and we're one balloon down, two to go. We go for missionary, which is not a good idea considering I'm still aching, and then reverse cowgirl. In the end, it's in vain; we come in third. _Giggle. Come in. Giggle._

"Jesus!" Alice exclaims, sinking down onto the sofa. "Now I know what a guy feels like trying to bust a nut!"

It's a good thing I wore waterproof mascara, 'cause I've had rivers of laughter-tears running down my cheeks.

"Okay, ladies! Who wants to see some lingerie?"

We cheer, 'cause shit's about to get real.

* * *

Afton has magic cases full of various sizes of lingerie. The first thing I know I'm buying is the black, lacy, basque/corset. I try it on, and fuck me, it does wonders for the girls.

"Bella, you _have _to get this," Alice tells me. She looks hot in a blue bra set.

I agree with her, though. And I really want to try the panties on—they're brand new, don't worry—so I buy the set off the basque alone and put the ensemble on. I buy some sheer black stockings with lacy tops for our little plan too.

Rose does the same thing with a red babydoll, and Angela a black and cream teddy.

"Let's make the guys drool," Alice says. One by one we pose for snaps on our phones. Mine is taken perched on the vanity, and I bite my lip to look coy while giving bedroom eyes. Or at least, that's the look I'm going for; I probably look ridiculous.

We wait until all the photos are taken before sending them. Rose is really quite tipsy, so she becomes very amorous i.e. horny. Emmett doesn't stand a chance.

I giggle as I tap out a message to go with my picture, which actually turned out fuck-hot.

**You like? Hope you've had a good day xo**

We try on some more lingerie and then some dress-up costumes. I try on the masseuse one, which is baby pink, tight as hell, extremely low-cut and barely covers my ass. I know I'm getting ahead of myself, but I'm imagining giving Edward a massage of a very different kind in this. One I can't charge for, or would be arrested for if I did.

I still haven't got a reply, but I push the thought away as I try on one more—a dominatrix dress. Tight, short, wet-look leather with front hook and eye fastenings all the way down. It comes with a little whip and an eye mask. Hello, Halloween, is all I can say.

"Bella!" Rose squeals. "I'm going to Em's tonight after he's finished with his dad's dinner!"

"Oh, so it's 'Em' now, is it? I thought he pissed you off?"

"He does. But he's sexy and goofy and I just want to do all kinds of bad things to him!"

I laugh. "Atta girl!"

"Oh and he says since he's the only member of the Cullen family not to see your tits, he demands a photo."

"Fuck no!"

Why do I get the impression I'll never live this down?

Afton gets the vibrators out then; that distracts me. We pass them around, and she tells us to switch them on and test them against our noses to get a sense of the intensity and feel. This weekend is like finding water in a desert. A drought for so long, and suddenly there's this sex god and sex toys and just … yeah. I want them all. Of course, I can't afford to buy them all, so I go for a powerful rabbit and a bullet.

It's only as we're leaving that I get a text back from Edward.

**Fuck me! Can I call you in an hour? XO**

I agree. Too quickly to be considered aloof. But come on … Phone. Sex. S'all I'm sayin'.

* * *

Alice and I take a cab back to the house, since the other two are with Ben and Emmett. Fortunately, should any sexy times occur during Edward's phone call—one can only hope—my room is on the other side of the house from Alice.

After saying goodnight to her, I take my make-up off, brush my teeth and put on a little vest-top. I swear the vibrators are looking at me, so I put the batteries in. When I hear a vibration, I think I've lost my mind and they've come to life … until I realise it's just my phone.

"Hey," I answer.

_"Hey, beautiful. Did you have a … good time?"_

I can hear amusement in his voice, which I don't really understand. "Yeah, it was really fun. Really."

_"Bella, do you realise you called me earlier?"_

"No, I didn't." How much had I drunk?

_"Really? So I didn't hear you say: 'How the fuck should I know, last time I checked I had a vagina!' or 'Come on, harder!'…?"_

Those words sound familiar, and suddenly I remember where from. "Oh God! We were popping balloons!"

"_Naughty girl, I bet you were. And then …_" His voice changes from amused to husky._ "… You made me hard in a fancy restaurant. Fuck, Bella, you don't know how much I want you. You looked so fucking sexy in your picture."_

I'm already moving my hand down my body. "Mmm, you'll be pleased to know I bought it then. And some … other things."

_"What other things?"_

"Silky, lacy things and a costume or two. Not forgetting two vibrators."

I hear a clunk and a muffled curse.

_"Bella, you still there?"_

"Yeah, I'm still here."

_"Holy fuck, baby, you've got me so hard. Are you alone?"_

"Yeah, I'm in bed. Will you stroke your cock for me?"

There's the rustling of fabric and then the sound of skin on skin. My hands are moving to his dirty words, harsh breathing, and grunts. I'm soaked for him, wishing he was here, and I tell him so.

He tells me all the things he'd do to me, and we're moaning and panting.

_"Get your vibrator, baby."_

I obey in an instant, turning it on and putting Edward on speakerphone.

More curses, grunts, groans.

And then I'm putting it inside of me, describing every movement, feeling the intense vibrations. But it's nothing compared to what he felt like inside of me last night. Again, I tell him so. My inhibitions are gone, driven away by my libido, my slight buzz from earlier, and the Edward effect.

The sounds we're making get louder, the pleasure builds and builds, and then we're both right there, coming together in a rush of ecstasy and expletives.

I light a cigarette. Kidding.

When we've recovered, Edward has to go clean up, 'cause being covered in drying jizz is just nasty.

"Goodnight, Edward."

"_Sweet dreams, Bella._"

Oh, McHottie, with you in them, how could they be anything but?

As I drift off to sleep, though, I'm suddenly overcome with nerves about tomorrow. I'll actually be getting to _know_ Edward Cullen, out of the sheets. What's more frightening is he'll be getting to know me.

* * *

**Any interesting sex toy party stories?**

**Please review :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much for your reviews! And to A Jasper For Me for beta'ing :)**

**On with the show ...**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

My shriek sends my friends running from wherever they were to my bedroom, as I stare at the mirror and curse. "Goddamn cocksucking ballwank!"

"What?!" Alice exclaims. "What's going on?!"

I step away from the mirror, my face aghast. "Do you see this?

"What?"

"This!" I yell. "I have a grey hair! A motherfucking grey hair!"

They all look at each other and burst into laughter. I wait … and wait some more.

Rose wipes her eyes. "Jesus, we thought someone was killing you!"

They laugh harder. I may or may not stomp my foot.

"Bella, calm down," Angela says when she's recovered herself. "I found my first grey hair at twenty-six; you're lucky you held out this long!"

"Calm down? I will not calm the fuck down! I'm going to be thirty, and I'm going grey! It's all downhill from here. Gah! I'm calling Edward and cancelling."

Rose rolls her eyes at me, flipping her hair. "Jeez, you are such a drama queen. You are doing no such thing. Thirty is the new twenty, everyone knows that. Hell, it might even be forty now, so get your ass moving."

I turn to look in the mirror again, biting my lip. I do look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. My nude lace dress is sleeveless, short and tight as hell, but not in a slutty way. Trust me. And my hair and make-up are great, too … if it wasn't for that damn grey.

"Ah fuck it, I'll dye it tomorrow," I say, leaving the mirror and slipping my patent nude heels on. "God, I'm so nervous!"

Alice giggles. "You've had this guy's cock in your mouth, how can you be nervous?"

"Because he's amazing and so _together_. And I'm so … _not. _Oh, and I have just the teensiest tendency to embarrass myself."

"Bella, stop this shit right now," Angela says firmly. "You are a beautiful, funny, strong, sexy woman. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Much better someone who gives him a laugh than an ice queen who couldn't crack a smile to save her life. Now are you going to woman up and get your man? Or are you going to sit around here bitching all night?"

"You're right." I pull my shoulders back and smirk. "I'm a great catch!"

"That's our girl!" Alice laughs, clapping just as the doorbell rings. "Go get him, tiger!"

I claw the air. "Grr!"

Rose shakes her head. "Don't ever do that again."

"Noted."

I grab by clutch, throwing everyone out of my room as I head downstairs. At the door, I take one more deep breath and open it to reveal one sexy-ass motherfucker. _Holy hell. _White button-down with the sleeves rolled up the elbow, open collar with just a tiny peek of the light dusting of chest hair, and grey dress pants. Huh. At least my one grey hair matches. He's also wearing a smirk I'd love to kiss off of him, probably because I'm staring.

"H-hi, Edward." Jesus, what happened to the tiger?

His eyes travel down my body, widening, and back up again. "Bella, you look amazing."

"Thanks, so do you."

He smiles and holds out a bunch of pastel tulips. "These are for you."

I don't know about tiger, but I'm grinning like a Cheshire cat as I take the pretty bouquet and thank him. Flowers? Check.

Rose appears from inside and offers to put them in water. Edward holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him lead me to his car. He opens the door for me. Gentleman? Check.

"So I never asked," I say as we drive along, "did you have a good time last night?"

He gives me a quick wink. "You know I did."

"I didn't mean _that, _perv! I meant your family meal."

"Ohhh, that was a lot less fun," he says, chuckling.

"Do you not get on with them?"

"No, I do … I mean, I moved because I wanted to be closer to my family. I figured eventually I would settle down, and I didn't want to do that far away from them. But they still get on my nerves. My dad and brother share the same kind of immature humour, I guess, and my mom … she's just a bit much."

I think of my own mother. "I know what you mean."

"I took away her key, by the way. She only had it for when I was moving in, but she … um, finds it hard to respect boundaries. I think she learnt her lesson, though."

I shake my head. "God knows what she thinks of me."

"Maybe it wasn't the _best _first impression but, hey, there's always next time."

_He wants me to meet his parents again? That's simultaneously terrifying and exciting._

We pull up outside a fancy-looking Italian restaurant, and Edward comes to open my door. I swoon just a little inside.

"Sorry it's not exciting," he says sheepishly, "but I figured Italian was a safe bet."

"It's great. We can get more adventurous together." I pause as the words play in my head. "I totally didn't mean for that to sound sexual."

"You totally did." Edward's laugh is warm and rich as he puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me inside. A mixture of Edward's scent and the delicious aroma of the food has me salivating the moment we go through the doors. I haven't eaten since breakfast because I didn't want to bloat. Fuck, when did I become one of _those_ girls? Next thing you know, I'll be ordering a garden salad as a main course. I'm rectifying that shit right now.

Silence blankets us as we peruse the menu. I make wise choices—no spaghetti or anything with tomato, just in case I spill—and tuck into the ciabatta and olive oil while we wait for the appetisers.

The slightly unsure silence that has settled upon us is getting to me, so I blurt out, "I'm twenty-nine, about to turn thirty. I have one cat, one grey hair—possibly more—and I live with three other girls. My mother can be an interfering, overbearing shrew, and my father is as camp as Christmas. Still want to have dinner?"

He looks stunned for a second, then laughs, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

"I'm thirty-three, no pets, but several grey hairs. My mother can be controlling and snooty, my dad still thinks he's twenty-five, my brother is a crass loudmouth, and I co-own a graphic design firm with my friend when we're not moonlighting as a bondage-loving gay couple. Oh, and I have two kids."

I choke on my wine. "WHAT?!"

"Kidding!" He laughs at his own joke. "I have no children. Are you against them?"

"Not at all, you just surprised me." I wipe my mouth, 'cause that can't have been sexy. "Any skeletons in your closet at all?"

"Nah, I keep them in the basement." His eyes twinkle with mirth. "But seriously, I'm really quite … well, boring."

I want to snort, but I stop myself. "_Something_ must be wrong with you if you're still single."

"I could say the same."

I don't answer, just sip my drink, because telling him what's wrong with me is a sure way to have him running for the door. "So graphic design, huh? You're an artist." My eyes stray to his long fingers, admiring them.

"We both are."

This time, I do snort. _Sexy. _"Sadist is more like it."

We talk about work for a while; how he got fed up of working in-house at a big Seattle firm and wanted to branch out on his own, how he met Jasper, then how I got into beauty therapy. He's interested and actually _listens. _There is a god after all. I may just pinch myself under the table. Damn ... that shit hurt.

I'm managing to not embarrass myself. I'm impressed … and a little smug.

"So, you said you turn thirty soon?" he asks.

I groan. "Yes, unfortunately. Why couldn't I be a normal woman and lie about my age?"

"Thirty isn't old, but you don't look it, anyway." His eyes make me believe him. "What are you doing for it?"

_This is your opening, Bella!_ _Mmm, opening … Focus!_

"I'm having a party in a couple of weeks," I tell him, "… um, actually I was kinda sorta wondering if you'd maybe possibly like to come with me?"

His grin widens and he chuckles. "Well, I don't know … you don't seem too sure."

"Fine. Edward, will you come to my birthday party?" I deadpan.

"What would this birthday party entail?"

"Talking, drinking, eating, dancing. Telling my mother we're madly in love and about to marry and have a thousand babies. Watching my father dance to _It's Raining Men. _The usual."

He throws his head back in laughter. "With an invitation like that, how can I refuse?"

Our desserts arrive. _Creamy tiramisu. _I made Edward order his own; no one stands in the way of me and my dessert. Not even sexy men I want to do all kinds of dirty things to, unless said dirty things involve dessert. Now that's an idea.

It's when I'm finishing up that I notice him staring at me, his mouth slightly agape.

"What? Do I have cream around my mouth?"

"No, but you soon will." He turns to our server. "Check please."

* * *

***Snickers***

**The grey hair thing happened to me this year, and I'm only 26. It scared the hell outta me!**

**Please review :)**


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